


Self-Discovery: Donatello

by Stegosaur



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Gay Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegosaur/pseuds/Stegosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donatello has been particularly wound up lately, so Raphael takes it upon himself to help his brother embrace his sexual identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Discovery: Donatello

                “This seems…silly.”  Donatello quipped as Raphael stared back at him with folded arms, a wry smile on his lips.  “I don’t even know why I’m here.”  Raphael reached beyond the frame of his doorway and grabbed the genius’ mask ends, twirling them around his index finger until they were snug, giving them a gentle tug to bring Donatello’s chin and gaze upward to his own.

                “Sure ya do.  You’ve never done something without a reason, Donnie.”  Raphael’s other hand cupped his brother’s chin, keeping his gaze locked forward.  “You’re our master planner, our finest tactician, our beautiful mind.  Everything you do is for a reason, even down to the precise temperature you have your coffee at.”  Donatello swallowed hard, averting his eyes as a hint of blush tainted his cheeks.  “You do trust me, right Donnie-boy?”  Raphael moved in closer to his brother, deliberately violating his personal space as if conquering it.  He slipped a foot around behind Don’s, delicately trapping his brother’s movement in the narrow doorway, ever so carefully cutting off a retreat and forcing a forward march.

                “O-of course I do, Raph, it’s just…”

                “Just what?”  Raphael leaned his head in closer to Don’s, whispering into his ear canal, letting his hot breath wash over his brother’s bare olive skin.  “It’s okay to be nervous, Donnie-boy.  This is new to you, brand new territory.  Every explorer is scared at first, even if they don’t admit it…”  He could feel Don’s arm tense as he clenched his fist, that wry grin slowly morphing into a caring, if dominant smile.  “The best parts of life come when we push past that fear, to try new things, do something unplanned or spontaneous.  This is one of those times, Donnie-boy, if you’ll let it.  For once, forego your plans, dismiss your options, and just embrace what’s to come with an open mind.”  He could feel Donatello’s foot slide back against his, and he swore he could hear his brother’s heart pounding away furiously in his chest.  He knew that his next words needed to be perfect, if this was to continue the way he intended.  “Trust in your brother, Donnie-boy.”  He squeezed Don’s chin firmly and turned it towards his own, forcing the genius to stare into his amber eyes.  “Trust me.”  He planted his mouth firmly upon Don’s in a kiss, the olive turtle briefly resisting before practically melting against his muscled chest and into his arms, that delightful churr of his reverberating through Raph’s teeth.  He broke the embrace as quickly as he’d forced it, completing his maneuver behind Donatello and gesturing into the dark bedroom.  “After you.”

                “O-okay.”  Donatello entered the familiar bedroom with a new degree of trepidation, Raphael giving him plenty of space to enter of his own volition, while mentally cutting off Don’s retreat by staying just outside the doorway.  He knew Donatello would enjoy this once things got going, but his little brother was always to shy or tepid to flat out ask for this sort of thing, let alone admit to enjoying it.  He’d resolved himself to only stopping if Donatello flat out refused, pushing the genius further from his comfort zone for a healthy change of pace.  After all, it’s how he managed to get into in the first place himself, via careful guidance from a welcoming mentor.  “So, uh…now what?”

                “Take a seat on the bed when you’re ready. I’ll close the door, and we’ll get started slowly…okay Donnie-boy?”  Donatello froze in place, glancing back at Raphael in the doorway before staring down at the makeshift bed, an older mattress placed atop some plastic sheeting on the bare floor, its sheets suspiciously new and clean.  The plastic material crinkled audibly beneath his bare feet, which in turn only made him even more uncertain.  “Take your time.  There’s absolutely no rush.”

                “What’s the plastic for?”

                “It keeps the bottom of the mattress clean, in case this room leaks again.”

                “It does that?”

                “Sometimes.”  Raphael stepped into the room, taking a risk by leaving the path behind him open for a quick escape by his timid brother.  He placed his hands on Donnie’s shoulders, giving them a firm rub.  “But only during heavy rainstorms. It’s no big deal.  Tell you what, next time it rains, you can help me plug it.  Okay?”  Donatello nodded, churring at the firm grip of those fingers on his shoulders.  “So…whenever you’re ready, Donnie-boy.”  Raphael took a step back after releasing his grip, standing between his brother and the open doorway.  Donatello hesitated for another moment before taking a deep breath, throwing himself face first onto the bed.  Raphael took his cue to shut his bedroom door and bar it shut, the room suddenly becoming significantly darker without the flood lighting of the central lair chamber.  He flicked on the light switch near the doorway, illuminating the room and its contents for the two of them to see easier, Donatello pulling himself back upright on the bed and looking around, taking in his brother’s private sanctuary in a new light. 

                The bed itself was new, though the ratty hammock still hung between a pipe and a pillar in the corner of the space, pillows lining its bottom along with a thick blanket.  Along that wall were Raphael’s assortment of weights and exercise equipment, including his lumpy punching bag, the bottom sagging where the fluff had pooled, likely wet, at the bottom.  A shelf above the hammock contained a number of items common to most males: a bottle of lubricant, nearly spent, as well as explicit adult magazines, homosexual in nature, with a clean washcloth hanging off one side of the shelf, its use obvious.  Donatello blushed at the obviousness of these items, as he’d always taken great pains to hide his materials when he came of age, yet here was Raphael, displaying them like a badge of honor.  He could feel his plastron loosen around his genital slit, the scent of sex still strong in the room now that the door had been closed.  Two new additions found themselves in Raphael’s room, or they were new to him, at least: a simple dresser, likely an old IKEA model, and a surprisingly sturdy wardrobe, firmly mounted to the wall across several anchors, excessively so.  The exterior of it had a simple bike lock chain wrapped through the handles, ensuring it couldn’t be opened without his consent.  His heart leapt at the thought of its contents, deviant and otherwise.  “S-so…what now?”

                Raphael had moved to sit next to him on the bed, hands gently reaching up and undoing the purple mask tied around his head, delicately folding it and setting it atop a small nearby table.  He repeated the same with his own mask, before placing his hand on Don’s thigh.  “Well, that’s entirely up to you, now isn’t it?  I know you’re into this, Donnie-boy, but I don’t know what side.”  Don looked at him curiously, a quiet gasp escaping his lips as Raph squeezed his thigh firmly.

                “I-I don’t know either, Raph.  I mean, I’ve uh…w-wait, what do you know about me?”  Don looked more than a little defensive, something Raphael had anticipated beforehand.  He reached back to the table and pulled out a leather strap, a perfectly shined clasp adorning it.  He deliberately slid it under Don’s nostrils so that his brother could smell the freshly treated leather, smiling as he slowly unfolded it.

                “I know you love leather.  The smell, the texture, everything about it.”  He slowly moved it over Don’s face, revealing it to be a sort of leather mask, purple stitches around the eyes signifying its owner.  Don didn’t budge or resist as Raphael wrapped it around his skull and buckled it securely, the material binding snugly against his olive skin.  “Perfect.  How does it feel?”

                “Delightful.  Right, in a way.”  Donatello churred loudly as his fingers traced over the new mask, feeling at the buckle in the rear, finding it to be small and smooth to avoid it biting into the skin or pressing into his skull during more rigorous activities.  “Practical, too.  Where did you find this?”

                “Made it m’self.”  Raphael beamed, grabbing both of Donatello’s hands and holding them against the mask as he kissed his brother again.  “Glad you like it.”  Donatello moved to gently push Raphael’s hands back down to their thighs, grasping them in his and squeezing tight.

                “I didn’t know you could make this sort of thing.  It feels, well…don’t take this the wrong way, Raphael, but it feels professionally made.”  Raphael feigned insult for a moment before laughing, giving Don’s hands an affirming squeeze.

                “It took a lot of practice.  I’ve actually been at this for a few years now, as part of my own training.  My mentor taught me the basics of leatherworking, measuring, cutting, binding, and care.  I adopted it to, well…our unique builds, I guess you could put it.”  Raphael released his grip, leaning back on the bed and staring to the ceiling.  “I’ve actually been doing custom orders for a few months, now, to polish my skillset before I made yours.”  Donatello turned to face his brother with a look of surprise; he’d really been doing this for years?  He had a mentor?  Sure, it would explain his routine absences, but who would mentor someone like him?  To what end, for that matter?  Donatello’s mind was awash in questions, but Raphael’s teasing stroke of his tail jolted him back to the present, a churr rousing from his throat involuntarily.  “Donnie-boy, you never answered my question earlier.”  Donatello tensed back up from his momentary relaxation, squeezing his palms together between his legs.  “If you’d like, I can share what I know about you instead, though I find that you’ll adapt and embrace it a lot quicker if you just open up a little voluntarily.  You’re in a safe space, nobody can hear you but me.”  Donatello perked up at the choice of words, Raphael quickly placating him.  “Or see you, for that matter.  No cameras, no peepholes, no microphones.”  The olive turtle visibly relaxed again and began nervously twiddling his thumbs, crossing his legs casually at the ankles and letting his knees hang wide.

                “W-well, uhm…you were right about the leather, obviously, but…I don’t know where to begin.  I can’t find the words, Raph.”  Raphael let him sit there and stew in his own brain for a few moments before moving around the bed, placing his hands firmly on Don’s shoulders and massaging them, attempting to loosen his brother’s lips.  “Mnng…perhaps…if you ask me some questions?”  The inflection gave away Don’s motives as one of coy innocence, though Raphael decided that playing along couldn’t hurt if Don was subtly condoning it.  Even when Raphael felt in control of the situation, Donatello made sure he could turn it around in a single sentence if need be; he had to admit, it was a very attractive feature.

                “Alright then.  Let’s start with something simple.  Top, or bottom?”

                “Both.”  Donatello answered coolly, keeping a straight face.  Raphael already knew the answer, of course, having found Don’s thoroughly used fleshlight and dildo in the lab at different points, usually when he was snooping around for some tools for his own tradecraft.  “Though if given a choice?  I prefer…top.”  Another inflection hinted that there was more to this answer, though Raphael dodged the bait for now.

                “Gay, or Bisexual?”

                “Meaningless labels when we’re four of a kind, don’t you think?”  Raphael dug his fingers into Don’s skin, a less than subtle punishment for his brother’s cheekiness.  “Gay, or at least…I’ve yet to see or meet a female I’d want to mate with.  Just too…curvy, I guess.”  Donatello made a gesture to accompany the statement, something Raphael couldn’t help but grin at as the genius waved his hands like they were sculpting an hourglass.  “I guess I prefer slabs of meat instead of-“

                “I get it, Donnie-boy, I get it.”  Donatello blushed at the interjection, though Raphael reassured his brother of their relative safety here.  The olive turtle quickly resumed slumping against Raph’s chest, that quiet churr of his slowly resurfacing.  “Ever had sex?  In general, not asking for names here.”  Donatello shook his head quietly, the churr stopping as blush crept along his cheeks.  “Do you want to have sex?  Again, Donnie-boy, speaking generally.  I’m not propositioning you at the moment.”  Donatello pursed his lips as he thought about this for a moment, Raphael calmly and quietly kneading his brother’s shoulders while waiting for the expected answer.

                “Yeah, I do.  I really, really do.  Plastic replicas just aren’t the same as a living, throbbing…”  Donatello stopped himself, biting his lower lip in embarrassment.  “You know.”  Raphael stifled a chuckle at his brother’s embarrassment over such basic anatomy, trying to keep his calm and inviting demeanor.  Donatello didn’t need judgement, just a steady nudge towards opening up.  “May I ask a question?”

                “Shoot.”

                “You didn’t ask me if I was straight, you just assumed gay or bisexual.  Why?”

                Raphael leaned in close, letting Don’s shell press into his plastron.  “Because I found your pornography, and the female to male ratio was staggeringly disproportionate.”  Donatello’s face flushed as if it were on fire, Raphael’s fingers wrapping around Don’s chest and giving him a comforting squeeze.  “Don’t worry, I made sure to hide them where I found them, and even cover it up with a mess of my own in case Leo or Mikey came snooping.  They don’t know, and they don’t have to if you don’t want them to.”  Don slowly relaxed against Raphael’s chest at the reassuring words, cracking a small smile.

                “Maybe I want them to know. Maybe I just want to burst out into the lair like this, and proudly say-“

                “You like cock?”  Donatello reached around to gently smack Raph’s skull, chuckling a little.  “What? They’d be totally understanding of it, Donnie-boy, trust me.”

                “Even Leo?”  Donatello craned his head back to look at Raphael, the emerald turtle placing a kiss atop Don’s forehead.

                “Especially Leo.  Promise.”  Donatello looked rather unsure of the latter statement, but Raphael could definitely feel his brother finding his footing and confidence in the topic at least.  “So…you sounded unsure about topping earlier.”  It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement designed to tug at Don’s instinct to explain everything to everyone all the time.  He could feel his brother fidget a bit as he strained internally on if he should proceed, but Raphael knew that, given long enough, even Don would cave and-

                “Well, I’ve never topped before, and honestly…”  Raphael’s grin spread as Don predictably volunteered the information he was searching for, his arms squeezing his brother at the pause.  “I loved fucking myself with my dildo.  Having it inside me, dictating the rhythm, speed, force of it all…I loved the control over it, but-“

                “So you’re a power bottom.”

                “Huh?”  Donatello’s head leaned back again, gazing up at Raphael with the rare look of confusion.  “A power bottom?”

                “Yeah. You like being fucked, but you want control over it.  Some guys just like to lie there and take it, they enjoy the rough treatment of having the ass nailed by another guy in control.  Though some folks, like you, enjoy being fucked but want more control over the encounter, to dictate things like pacing or positioning.  A power bottom.”  Donatello’s confused expression remained, giving Raphael an idea.  “Alright.  Look at it this way.”  Raphael reached to the table and retrieved his collar, a red leather affair with a single D-ring in the front, a locking clasp in the rear.  He positioned it in front of Don and wrapped it between his fingers, pulling it taught.  “So I’m going to make an assumption and say you know about the Dominant and Submissive roles in BDSM, right?”  Donatello nodded meekly, the blush in his cheeks readily acknowledging that his brother was decently read in that context at the very least.  “Alright.  So normally, let’s hypothetically use us for this example, two guys just fuck.  You fuck me, I fuck you, whatever.  One guy enjoys being plowed, the other enjoys doing the plowing.  It’s simple and straightforward, and both are equals, right?”  Donatello nodded again, Raphael raising the collar into a more prominent position.  “But now let’s put some more roles into it.  You’re fucking me, and I’ve got this collar on, and you’re holding the leash to it, right?  At that point, you’re in total control of the pacing, thrusting, positioning, etcetera.  I could go, ‘ _unh, harder Master Don, please,’_ but it’s entirely up to you if my request is fulfilled.  Your pleasure comes first, and mine is secondary, right?”  Raphael looked down to see if Donatello was still paying attention, feeling a bit like a heel at Don’s stony face of embarrassment from his terrible exaggeration of sex talk.  “Rrrrright.  Okay, so…that’s standard dominant topping and submissive bottoming, right?  So power bottoming is the same concept.  Let’s role reverse this time – you’re in the collar, and I’ve got the leash, except this time, you’re on your back in bed…” 

                Raphael decided to jolt his little brother into the moment by tugging him down onto the bed with him, quickly rolling atop Don’s waist and grinding his rump against the genital slit of his plastron.  “And I’m on top of you, like this.  Or any position, really.”  Donatello churred at the grind, and Raphael could feel his brother quickly catching on to the idea.  “So I’d be riding your long, hard shaft, but with your leash in my hands, I’d be dictating your motions as well as mine.  I could tell you to go harder, and you’d comply.  I could slow my own pace while ordering you to keep still, just to drive you wild.  Again, the dom’s pleasure comes first, regardless if they’re fucking, or being fucked themselves.  A dominant who prefers controlling the sexual act of their own fucking…is a power bottom.”  Donatello nodded hastily in understanding, his blush slowly retreating as arousal began to take hold.  “Any questions?”

                “A few.”  Donatello removed himself from under Raph, taking the collar from his fingers and examining it.  “Top or bottom, Raphael?”

                “Switch.”  Raphael answered without hesitation, Donatello taking a moment to process the answer as he played with the collar between his fingers.  “Next?”

                “Dom or sub?”  Donatello asked nonchalantly, hoping to trip his brother up.

                “Switch, again, though I’ve had more experience as a sub.”  Raphael rattled it off like it was no big deal; to him, it wasn’t.  To Donnie though, it was a surprising revelation that he had to capitalize on further, seeing it as a rare chance to learn more about his brother’s interests and experiences.

                “You’ve been someone’s submissive before?  Was it Leo? Or Mikey? Or…”  Raphael laughed a bit at the sharp inquisition, leaning back on the palms of his hands and giving Don some space.

                “Neither of them.  T’was a guy I met outside a Leather Bar one night.  He was getting mugged, I had my vigilante thing going on, and I knocked the three crooks out cold.  I grabbed the guy’s vest that one of them had yanked, and when I tried to offer it back to him, he gave me a sort of cat-call whistle and told me to put it on.  Turns out he was this really open-minded kinda guy, went by the name ‘Paul’.”  Raphael turned his head toward the ceiling enjoying the reminiscing.  “He bought me some beer, we talked…and he propositioned me.  I’d tried some glory holes once before-“ Donatello shot straight up like a rocket, eyes wide as he stared back at Raphael in shock.  “Yes, Don, that’s how I knew I liked cock. Just sucked, didn’t dare press my ass up.  Anyway.  He propositioned me, I accepted being a drunk turtle in a too-tight leather vest, one thing led to another, and…”

                “He invited you home?”  Don asked, captivated by the tale, Raphael’s smile spreading.

                “Yeah. Well, kinda. He had this sort of workshop in a bad part of town, where he did some carpentry.  Gave me the address, told me to stop by if I wanted a mentor.  Thought that a man was a man, regardless of skin color. Including green skin like me.  So after thinking it over, and musing about how Leo would’ve given me this terrible lecture about how irresponsible it was…I met him.”  Raphael let himself fall back onto the bed and folded his arms under his skull, Donatello lying down beside him.  “Scoped the place out at night, first.  No security systems, no phones, no cameras, just the usual carpentry stuff with a ratty sofa and minifridge off to the side.  I opted to crash on the sofa until dawn, in the hopes he’d show up.  He must’ve thought ahead, because there was a note addressed to me taped to a beer in the fridge, with his schedule inside.  I downed the beer, took a nap, and told-“

                “You told me you’d lost track of time, and would be back the next nightfall!”  Donatello smacked Raphael’s forehead with an open palm, his face a mixture of envy and frustration.  “Leo was _pissed_ , you know, and I got to hear all about irresponsible Raphael for two hours from him before he finally relented.”

                “Yup, I know. Thanks for fielding that one for me, hopefully I can make it up to you sometime.”

                “I’ll hold you to that. So...tell me more.  Our interactions with humans tends to be pretty limited, you know, and most folks aren’t too keen on dealing with walking, talking, crime-fighting turtles.  He sounds pretty special.”

                Raphael nodded.  “He was.  Very special.  He showed up the next morning and gave me a big ol’ bear hug when he saw me on the sofa.  Startled me, actually.  I spent the day helping him around the shop while we chatted.  It was so damn nice to talk to someone _not_ a crime fighting vigilante for a change, someone just…normal, relatively speaking.”

                Donatello flashed a toothy smile, ribbing Raphael a bit.  “Raph had a crush on him, eh?”  Raphael gave an affirmative nod, bopping Don’s hand away from prodding his ribs.

                “He was a catch, I’ll admit.  Before I left, he pulled a little black collar out of his jeans and handed it to me.  Asked me if I wanted to be his slave, learn the ins and outs of the various crafts and trades.”  Raphael paused for a moment, letting the memory hang between the two of them.  “My heart was pounding.  Only knew this guy less than a day, and what he said next sort of sealed the deal for me.”

                “What was that?”

                “He said for me to take it with me, keep it.  I was always welcome to swing by his place if I wanted to, and we’d only fool around if I had the collar on when I arrived.  No collar, no play.  It meant I was free to switch in and out of the role as I pleased, which meant he respected my freedom and independence.  That’s a really, really big thing, you know, and the quickest way to tell a good dom from a bad one: good ones value you as a person while treating you as property, while bad ones merely see you as an object, nothing more.”

                “Wow. So, how long did you wait until you wore it?”

                Raphael chuckled, closing his eyes.  “I put the damn thing on right then and there.  Then I blew him on the sofa.”

                “Slut.”  Donatello jested.

                “Damn right.  Things just kinda progressed from there.  He taught me the finer points of a blow job, how to loosen up for sex, tying bondage knots, making leather gear, safewords, attitude when roleplaying…literally books and books and books of information.  After a year or so, he said I’d learned all he could teach me.  I was visiting him as often as I could, every night I had off, even spending a weekend or two there with him.  We eventually replaced the sofa with a proper bed, helped him build the frame for it myself.  Broke it in with him power bottoming with me spread eagle on the mattress.  Eventually, I was always wearing the collar, even though we weren’t always having sex.  We’d just sorta…bonded.”  Raphael’s smile began to invert, and the tone became cool.  “His last gift to me was the workshop.  I wound up moving the tools and stuff with Casey and April over a weekend to a place near the lair.”

                Donnie could already pick up on the tone of the conversation, grabbing Raphael’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.  “Sounded like a great guy.”

                “Mmhmm.  Last lesson he taught me to never let your shame, or your embarrassment, or societal norms get in the way of your happiness.  Don’t wait to embrace who you are.”  Raphael righted himself with a grunt, turning over to Donatello with a devious grin across his face.  “So, wanna fuck?”

                “W-wha?”

                “Do you want to fuck, Donatello?  Do you want to have sex with me?”  Raphael’s grin remained steadfast even as Donatello was caught off guard, stammering a bit as he tried to form a response.  “Stop thinking with your brain, for a moment.  Let the smell and feel of that leather mask guide your heart for a change, instead of your mind.  Put out any thoughts of taboos, or guilt, or whether or not this is ‘right,’ and just speak your heart.  Do you want to have sex with me right now, Donatello?”  Raphael straddled his brother and placed his hands on Don’s cheeks, bending down to kiss his lips firmly, seizing a bit of control, further distracting the conscious mind of his brother and knocking down those barriers.  Donatello raised his hands to resist at first, though they slowly moved towards Raphael’s shoulders and squeezed them hard, pulling himself up into the kiss and returning it in earnest.  Raphael used Don’s grip to pull the two of them upright, breaking the kiss with a gasp for air, eyelids fluttering.  “Well?”

                “Yes, Raphael.  I want to have sex with you.  I want you to be my first so goddamn bad.”  Donatello croaked out, those brown eyes of his gleaming through the eyelets of the leather mask, almost dripping with need.  Raphael could tell Donatello had been pent up for a while, desperate for someone to approach and understand him for who he was.  If Raphael could do that for him, be that for him, then he felt obligated to help his brother embrace his identity.  He stood up on his feet and pulled Donatello with him, keeping his grip above Don’s waist for now and letting him dictate the mood.  When an olive hand groped his rump firmly, he had a pretty good idea where Don stood on things.  “So…did you-“

                “No, Don, I don’t have a preference with you.  This is your night, your time.  I want you to do what feels right to you, and nothing more.  My pleasure comes second to yours tonight, regardless of the roles we choose, if any.  So…”  Raphael took a step away from Donatello, grinning eagerly.  “The room, and its contents, are yours.”  Donatello looked over the red collar he still held between his fingers, then took a careful scan of the room once again, a smile cracking across his lips.

                “Raphael…you’re sure?  Whatever I want?”  Raphael nodded, his smile reassuring Donatello of his motives.  “What’s our safeword?”

                “Yours, put simply, is anything negative.  No, Stop, Quit…”

                “Popcorn.”  Donatello interjected.  “ _Our_ safeword tonight, is Popcorn.  Okay?”  Raphael chuckled and threw up his hands in a yielding gesture, Donatello grinning like a child.  The olive turtle immediately closed the distance between them and pressed the collar to Raphael’s neck, fastening the buckle before turning it around, the D-Ring flapping loosely.  “Good.  Because I’m going to be blunt with you, Raphael.  I have _always_ admired you.  Your physique, your strength, your rage and your anger, you’re just boiling over with this wild, untamed energy that just drives me insane with lust.”  Raphael blushed at the sudden string of comments, adjusting the collar around his neck for comfort before Donatello crooked a finger through the D-Ring.  “I have _always_ wanted to conquer that energy, Raphael.  Tonight, I will conquer _you_.”  Raphael churred as Donatello forced a kiss upon his brother, his length finally emerging from his slit and quickly becoming erect, the olive skinned turtle’s cock also slowly making an appearance as he settled into his role.  The kiss was broken by Donatello this time, though a firm grip on Raphael’s ass reminded him who he belonged to tonight.  “So, slut, what’cha got to play with?”

                Raphael took a step out of Donatello’s grip with a knowing chortle, opening the dresser drawers with an eager flourish.  “See for yourself.  All of it turtle-sized.”  Donatello stepped over and peered at the contents, everything neatly folded and organized within.  The top drawers, the most frequently used, were of various clothing: shorts, shirts, pants, even a pair of shoes and associated socks.  The drawer on the right had some underwear, mainly form-fitting boxer briefs and jockstraps, everything pressed and clean.  What caught Don’s attention and arousal, however, were the three rows of drawers beneath that: hoods, harnesses, cuffs, spreader bars, gags, plugs, all manner of bondage gear ready to be used, all of it immaculately cared for, and some of it…missing?

                “What are the empty holes for?”  Donatello remarked, a custom-cut grid system keeping each set of gear carefully separated from the rest, ensuring nothing became tangled or misplaced.  If there was an empty spot in the middle of the cuffs, Don knew there was a reason for it.  Not every space was full, of course, but the empty ones were usually on the edges or toward the back of the dresser drawer.  A few gaping holes in otherwise full areas made it pretty obvious something was missing.

                “Ah, those are currently in use by someone.”  Raphael tried to dismiss the question, though Donatello clearly was having none of it.

                “By whom?”

                “You’ll find out.  For now, I can tell you all that’s missing are a padded hood, speculum gag, and sleep sack.”  Donatello raised a curious eyeridge, quickly deducing that whoever is using them is almost certainly indisposed of for the foreseeable future, not to mention that gear that heavy weren’t going to be used tonight anyway, not by the two of them at least.  Donatello returned to the drawers and began examining some things in detail, smirking at a new discovery in the underwear drawer and turning to Raphael for confirmation of its purpose.  “Yup, that’s yours if you want it.”  Donatello pulled out a purple jockstrap, still sealed in its packaging, and held it up in the light of the bedroom.  He grinned as he opened the package and pulled out its contents, unfolding the stretchy yet thick fabric and examining it up close.

                “A spot of purple in a sea of red…”  Donatello glanced back to the drawer only for Raphael to nudge it shut, grinning wide, a red one hanging from his fingers.  “I take it there’s nothing else in there that’s any of my business, eh?  Like, say, a blue or orange one?”

                “No comment, but I picked one of mine out just in case.  I’ve also got them in leather down below, but it’s not personalized to anyone in particular.”  Raphael tossed the jockstrap on top of the dresser and stepped back aside, Donatello rummaging through the drawers and laying out some additional items, grinning wildly and even stifling a giggle or two.

                “What, no collar for me?”  Raphael motioned to an assortment of leather collars in one of the drawers, though Don’s grasp on his D-Ring indicated his real meaning, Raphael shaking his head.  “Guess that’s earned once I’m out like you, eh?  Fair enough.”  Raphael gave his shoulders a shrug, letting his smug grin do all the talking.  Truth be told, he didn’t make a collar for Don because he felt that was something for subs; if he was interested in owning one, though, he wouldn’t object to another side project.  After all, while primary colors like blue and red are easy to dye, mixtures like purple and orange were vastly more difficult to get that right tone, especially with the sort of royal purple Don preferred.

                “So…ground rules for me, Don?”  Donatello spun around from the dresser, a comical mad scientist grin plastered across his face, the effect almost making Raphael uneasy.

                “First thing’s first.  Call me ‘Master’, okay?”

                “Yes, Master.”  Donatello let a giggle slip in his giddiness, his cock twitching at Raphael’s dutiful response.  Raphael sank to his knees on instinct, even bowing his head in reverence, something Donatello hadn’t actually expected but was pleased to see nonetheless.  “I will serve you to my utmost ability tonight, Master.”

                “Good, my slave Raphael.”  Donatello scooped up some of his choices from the dresser, dumping them just to Raphael’s left and behind him.  “I want you silent as I learn to put these on you, okay slave?  Consider it a learning experience for me, and a true test of your craftsmanship for yourself.  They should go on comfily, after all, if your skills are as good as you claim.”  Raphael let himself smirk at Don calling his skills into question like that, though he didn’t have long as leather straps fitted over his arms and up into his shoulders, Donatello buckling them snug behind his shoulders before connecting the two pieces over his chest, buckling the harness closed and creating an easy chest grip for future play, the strap laying across the middle of Raphael’s well-sculpted pectorals.  Don chased the harness with arm bands over his biceps, a pair of leather cuffs buckling snugly over his wrists to complete the torso ensemble.  “You weren’t kidding, Raph.  These are really high quality!”

                “Why thank you, Master Donatello, I’m glad you approve.”  The disobedience was deliberate, forcing Donatello to reconcile his role as Master for their activities tonight, something Donatello had clearly already planned for as the taller, limber turtle produced one of Raphael’s heavy duty gags, a pair of speculum hooks with a leather strap.

                “Open wide, slave.  I told you not to speak.”  Raphael complied, opening his jaw wide for Donatello to work.  One set of the rounded metal hooks was wedged against the inside of his cheek and between his teeth, the other tugged firmly around the back of his head to hook into the other side.  Raphael could only groan and drool as the gag was secured, Donatello taking a moment to probe Raphael’s gag reflex with his length, finding none as he slid easily inside to his plastron, both of them groaning lustfully for more.  Donatello gave a few test thrusts before pulling out, giving a quiet pant of desperation.  “Gods, I just want to face fuck you so badly, now.”  He gave the strap on the gag a tug, Raphael’s head jerking with it with an associated grunt.  “I’m so keeping this in my lab.  You might be spending a lot of time there, slut.”  Raphael’s facial expression was pretty fixed at this point, though his closed eyes and happy gurgle signaled his approval of the idea.  Donatello slipped a blindfold over Raphael’s eyes to further rend his brother helpless, carefully guiding the mute and blind turtle into position on the bed, attaching some cuffs to his ankles for good measure.  “Alright, slave.  Tuck your legs under you, and stretch your arms down your sides, like you’re trying to grab your ankles.”  Raphael complied, Don clicking some carabiners between the rings on his wrist and ankle cuffs, effectively keeping his torso raised while his limbs remained pinned beneath him, his cock standing proud in the air and already slicked with pre.  “I see someone is enjoying themselves.  Comfortable?”  Raphael managed a brief nod, Donatello turning back to the selected gear on the dresser.  “Good.  Let me get dressed, and we’ll begin.”

                Donatello smiled down at his bound brother, his heart practically leaping out of his chest at the sight.  Only in his wildest dreams did he think this would happen, yet here he was, dominating his wild brother like a proper Master.  He reached down and gave his length a stroke, Raphael’s drool sticking to it and slickening it slightly, the sensation making him churr.  He took the cross harness in hand and slowly fastened it around his chest and shell, resizing it for his smaller, more limber frame in the process.  He had contemplated a trimmed Executioner’s Hood, but had ultimately opted against it, feeling he should break in the leather mask Raphael so graciously made him.  Instead, he slipped some simple leather bands on his wrists for effect, buckling an equally simple leather collar around his neck, both lacking any sort of rings or anchor points, clearly meant for casual wear or dominant men.  His last choice was a curious one, even to him: despite plenty of leather shorts, chaps, and other garments, he opted to complete his simple ensemble with the jockstrap he’d found earlier, tugging the purple elastic and fabric over his legs and up his thighs, making sure it sat nice and comfortable on him, his erection pressing into the thick fabric of the pouch and tugging at the straps under his buttocks.  He took in the sight of himself in the mirror, opting at the last minute for a simple leather vest, carefully guiding it over his shell and tying the strings in the front, creating a webbed pattern.  He was eager to hear what Raphael thought of his choices, he had to admit, but he also knew he had to pop his own cherry first.

                Raphael gurgled at the prolonged inactivity, spurring Donatello to action.  A swipe of the fresh lube bottle from the bottom dresser drawer, along with a nicely sized plug, and he was ready to have his way.  “Alright, Raphael, let’s get lubed up for some fun. At the very least, I don’t need guidance for this.”  Raphael gurgled in what could only be assumed as understanding while Donatello opened the lube bottle, drizzling some over Raphael’s length before grasping it with his hand, giving it a few slow, sensual pumps to spread it around and coat it evenly, the emerald turtle groaning happily at the attention.  He straddled Raphael’s waist with a deviant grin, using his now slicked fingers to probe at his own ring, groaning as they easily slipped inside and stretched him out for the upcoming fun, giving Raphael a tease by hot dogging his length between the slickened rump cheeks.  “You want this, slut?  You want to fuck me?”  Raphael nodded meekly and moaned in the affirmative, Donatello leaning back against it as he grabbed a large plug, coating it in more lube.  “Good. Of course, my sluts are always full before they get to have a crack at me, so I hope your training paid off, Raphie boy.”  Raph gave a curious grunt as Don pressed the plug against Raphael’s sphincter, churring openly as his brother wriggled and squirmed in his bondage while Don continued the slow, consistent push of the plug into Raph’s anus.  “That’s it, slut, nice and easy.  Honestly, it feels like you’re hungry for it.  Are you hungry for your ass to be plugged, slut?  Is that it?”  Raphael let out a stuttered moan as the plug eased inside, a noisy slurp emanating in the room as it popped inside of him past the taper, the wide base keeping it securely inside of him even as Donatello gave it a few taps for good measure.  “Yeah, I knew you were a needy slut.  I’m going to have fun with this.”

                Donatello lifted himself up by his knees and slid back, positioning the tip of Raphael’s length against his pucker, the anticipation of penetration making his heart pump furiously.  He carefully lowered himself atop it, Raphael groaning as he felt his tip carefully spear Don open, the olive turtle sucking wind between his teeth as he was spread open by his brother’s cock.  “Gods, you’re thick.”  He hissed again as the glans pushed past his ring and up inside of him, the rest of the length easier to take now that he was lubed and penetrated.  He let gravity do most of the work of guiding him downward, grinding his bottom against Raphael’s plastron when he fully hilted for added effect, feeling the stiff member push around inside of him.  “Big dick for a big slut. Way better than any toy…”  He churred openly, groping his own length through the tented fabric of the jockstrap, pre staining it a darker shade as he dribbled with need.  With one hand on his own cock, and another on Raphael’s chest, he slowly began to raise and lower himself along his brother’s erection, clenching slightly at the top of each stroke.  Raphael could only groan and gurgle in response to Don’s slow, rhythmic motions, a slight whimper from the emerald turtle signaling his frustration at the delicate pace.  “Now now, you’ll cum when I tell you to, slut, and not a moment before.”  Raphael whimpered again in frustration, though Don was having too much fun enjoying the heavy mix of sensations.  He picked up his pace on Raphael’s cock, a high-pitched grunt of delight escaping his pursed lips, taking his hand off his own cock and placing both atop Raphael’s chest, squeezing tight.  “Yeah, nnh, yeah, yeah…”  Raphael gave a meager thrust despite his bondage, Donatello closing his eyes and bending forward, pinning Raphael’s arms to the bed with his upper body.  “Yeah, yeah slut, yeah slut, yeah slut…”  Raphael’s thrusts increased in force in response to the pleased moans of his current Master, Donatello suddenly releasing his grip on his arms and sitting up straight.  “Stop, slut.  Stop.”  Raphael immediately paused, worried he’d injured Donnie somehow despite the olive turtle being in complete control of the situation.  He felt the carabiners holding his cuffs together snap free, Donatello clipping a leash to his collar and giving a tug.  “C-come on, up on your knees, hands behind your back slut.”  Raphael rolled upright and complied, Don fastening one of the clips between his wrist cuffs behind his shell before laying on his back, guiding Raphael back inside of him.  “Fuck me, slut. Fuck me like the dirty little whore you are.”  Don’s legs bent over Raphael’s shoulders, the emerald turtle complying with the order and pushing hard into Donnie’s rear, building a steady pace even as Donatello kept a firm hold on his leash.  “Yeah, just like that slut…yeah…yeah…”  Raphael could feel his own orgasm creeping forth, his pace instinctively slowing to prevent him from disobeying his earlier order.  Donatello picked up on this and merely pulled the leash tighter, forcing Raphael to bend over and push harder against and into Don, lifting the smaller turtle off his shell somewhat and putting more strain on his neck.  “Fuck me, slut. Fuck me and fill me with your cum.”  He felt Don push back hard against his plastron and crotch, grinding his buttocks in need, Raphael all too eager to comply.  Drool dripped from his gagged maw and onto Donnie’s legs and chest, the thrusting immediately resuming with force as Raphael focused on his own climax.  Donatello gripped the bed with one hand while stroking his length with the other, yanking the front of the jockstrap down to let his dick fly free in the open air.  “A-almost, slut, almost…yeah, yeah…”  Donatello clenched around Raphael’s length hard, the emerald turtle feeling his brother tense with orgasm, a rope of seed splashing across his chest followed closely by a second landing against his open mouth and chin, Donatello spurting his load against the two of them even as Raphael continued thrusting inside.  His own climax came shortly thereafter, his length twitching in spasm as it emptied his load into Don’s anus, Donatello letting out a guttural, ecstatic moan as he collapsed against the bed, Raph’s cock popping free with a slorping noise.

                Both kept their positions for a few moments as they panted heavily for air, beads of sweat sticking to their skin.  Donatello slowly pulled himself away from his brother and sat upright, clenching his ring to keep himself from leaking cum onto the bed.  Raphael remained kneeling in his gear like an obedient slave, something Don just couldn’t help but admire.  His sculpted body, bound tightly by cuffs, blinded by leather, mouth wide open and ready for use, the entire ensemble drove Don wild with arousal, even though he was spent.  He never knew Raphael was into this sort of thing, let alone had so many pieces of gear or was this experienced.  Donatello reached over and undid Raphael’s carabiner, letting his brother free of the bonds keeping him posed.  “Thanks…Raph.”  Donatello panted, mustering a weak smile.  “I uh…I mean, you’re free, I guess?  I’m spent dude.”  Raphael chuckled as he slowly removed the blindfold covering his eyes, carefully unhooking the gag from his mouth and setting them both aside while licking his lips.

                “You taste pretty sweet. You must eat a lot of fruits and vegetables, Don.”  Raphael grinned, smacking his lips together before taking in the sight of his brother and giving a catcall.  “And sexy to boot.  Though I see you’re in a bit of distress.”  Donatello’s look of confusion only increased as Raphael opened the drawer of plugs and dildos, taking one out roughly the same size as his own length, forcibly parting Don’s legs and exposing his rump.  “Here.  Let me help you with that, my filthy little Master.”  Don opened his mouth to protest, though Raphael silenced it by firmly pushing the plug inside of his brother, trapping his spunk inside as Donatello moaned in delight.  “There. Now…relax.  The plug will keep it in until you’re ready for cleanup.”

                Donatello blushed, righting himself as Raphael crawled back on the bed and sprawled out.  He squirmed against the plug nestled inside of him, the heat of Raphael’s seed warming his gut.  “Thanks…wait, really? You can tell diet by how my cum tastes?”  Raphael nodded in the affirmative, using his hand to wipe Don’s remaining ejaculate from his plastron and lick it from his fingers, flicking his tongue between spread digits like he were rimming them.  “Christ, you’re a slut.”  Donatello chuckled, Raphael giving a noncommittal shrug before folding his arms behind his head, resting his body.  “So…what now?”

                “Hm.  That’s a good question, Don.  What do you want to do?”  Raphael inflected his phrasing to shove responsibility for the decision back onto Don, deliberately keeping the genius from retreating into his protective mental shell.  “Did you have fun?”

                “YES!” Don shouted inadvertently, immediately blushing as he tried to compose himself.  “I mean…yeah, I absolutely did.  I already want more, even though my body is sore and tired and sticky with sweat, lube, and ejaculate.”  Raphael let a devious grin spread across his lips, grunting as he scooted back towards Don on the bed, the plug inside of him tugging around.  “But, uhm…”

                “How about this: if you want to fuck, how about we have a little code phrase?  Something innocuous that others won’t pick up on, but we’ll know what the other wants.”  Donatello practically beamed at the idea, immediately giving it some thought.  “For instance, if I want you to come here to my room and fuck, I’ll ask you to ‘help spot me on the bench,’ okay?”  Donatello nodded, knowing full well that Raphael never really asked for a spotter, relying on his emergency drop system to get out from under a too-heavy bar.  Of course, nobody else knew of this except the two of them, so it was a very plausible explanation.

                “Deal. For me, how about I ask you to ‘help me test something in the lab?’  Would that work?”

                “Eh, that could be confusing. You ask a lot of us to test…ohh, oh-ho, I get it.”  Donatello was grinning deviously back at Raphael, who took a moment to catch on to the idea.  It was such a common phrase from him, nobody would be the wiser, especially if Raphael emerged covered in sweat from, say, lifting some machinery.  “Yes, absolutely, that works flawlessly.”  The two of them giggled at their newly set ‘code phrase’ for sex, both of them absolutely eager to make use of them right away.   “So, anything else on your mind?”

                “Yeah, actually, two things.  First…what’s with the jockstrap fetish?”  Donatello wiggled his eyeridge at Raphael, who managed a blush in response.

                “Well, they’re practical for bottoms. They reinforce whose pleasure matters, especially if you slip an athletic guard in the pouch. No way in hell the bottom will get hard, then.”  Raphael stroked the back of his head, flustered at the immediate provocation by Don.  “And, uh…I like how they feel, y’know? Especially when I work out. They keep me in a good mindset.”  Donatello nodded at that, giving a shrug in response as he climbed to his feet.

                “Fair enough, slut.  Oh, I can keep-“

                “Yes, you absolutely may. In private.”  Raphael interrupted him as Don opened the underwear drawer of the dresser, taking one of Raphael’s red jockstraps and tucking it into the waistband of his own.  “What’s that for?”

                “Well, you like them so much, you’ll be wearing them whenever you’re in my lab from now on. At least until I can coax you into keeping that collar on full time for me.”  Raphael folded his arms over his chest as Don shut the drawer, leaning against it absent-mindedly and yelping as the plug in his ass was pushed into him by the unyielding handle.  “Keep forgetting this thing’s in there.  I swear, it was like being fucked by a beer bottle.  You’re huge, dude.”

                “Why thank you, Sir, I’m glad you think so.”  Raphael flashed the biggest shit-eating grin he could, Donatello rolling his eyes at the display of bravado.

                “So anyway, that brings me to point number two…Leo.”

                “What about ‘im?”

                Donatello cupped his chin in thought, supporting his elbow by folding his other arm over his chest and under his other arm.  “Well…Mikey is oblivious and aloof to all this, right?  Leo, though…Leo will sniff this out the second that door opens.”  Don frowned, sighing openly.  “How do we hide this from him?”

                “We don’t, duh.”  Don glared at him, Raphael raising his hands in mock-surrender.  “Hang on, now, don’t sentence me to death by genius-vision until I explain.  You’re absolutely right, we cannot hide this from Leo at all.  He will find out, and we’ll be in trouble if we try to sneak this past him.”  Donatello twirled his hands in there expectantly, trying to hurry Raphael to his point.  The emerald turtle rose to his feet with a heavy grunt, giving the base of the plug inside of him a tweak before walking over to the punching bag and giving it a few good knocks, the bag swinging back and forth.  “So, we just come clean.  Tell him what’s going on, tell him the truth.  He’ll be fine with it, I promise.”

                Donatello growled a bit, stomping over to Raph and his punching bag and steadying it in place, glaring hard at him.  “That will never, ever work.  What, we just tell him, ‘Hey bro, Raph and I have kinky bondage sex in our respective rooms. That’s totes okay, right brah?’  He’ll pop a blood vessel!”  Raphael’s grin shifted to a smirk, reaching up to the top of the bag and untying its lace, removing the outer vinyl shell to reveal the foam padding within.  “Really? You think now is a good time to wash your bag?“ He stopped in his tracks as he saw the two straps holding a rolled foam mattress in shape, Raphael taking a step back.

                “Remember those missing pieces of gear I said were in use?”  Donatello popped the tabs on the straps, the mattress falling away to reveal a sleepsacked Leonardo, mouth held agape with a breathing tube connected to it and funneled to the top of the punching bag, a heavily padded hood secured over his head, the only indication of its occupant’s identity being the blue mask tied in a bow on the front laces of the leather sack.  “Turns out he loves feeling helpless, especially when I use him like a punching bag. With all the padding, he doesn’t get bruised or injured, just knocked around.”

                “Holy fuck, dude.”  Donatello pulled the simple tube free of the gag, probing the slick mouth with his fingers and grinning.  “Is that really him?  That’s fearless leader Leonardo?”  Raphael nodded before placing his hand atop Don’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

                “Mind taking care of him for me while I go clean up? I think you two have a lot to discuss, after all, and he’s been hanging around for a few hours now.”  Donatello didn’t respond even as Raphael left his room, closing the heavy door behind him to give them some privacy.  Donatello, newly confident in his dominant side, and Leonardo, their leader, their trainer, hung from a punching bag post in a sleepsack, hood, and gag, completely helpless to Don’s whims.  He slowly undid the knot holding the hood in place, loosening the laces before pulling it free of Leonardo’s head, the turtle sticky with sweat and arousal.  He grinned as Leo’s eyes went wide, Don shoving his fingers into Leo’s mouth and probing his throat with them, their leader squirming in his bonds.

                “Hello, Leonardo.  I wonder if your gag reflex is as suppressed as Raphael’s…”

                Leonardo whimpered and groaned, writhing in the sleepsack.


End file.
